


Spectre (February 2019 Mature BVDN: Film Noir)

by musicofthespheres



Series: Bulma Vegeta Drabble Night [6]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: AU, BVDN, F/M, Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 04:53:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17891858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicofthespheres/pseuds/musicofthespheres
Summary: The deadly night descends upon Bulma as she travels a dark path to safety, where she meets a mysterious stranger.





	Spectre (February 2019 Mature BVDN: Film Noir)

**Author's Note:**

> The prompts were: 
> 
> 1\. Rainy Night  
> 2\. Private Eye  
> 3\. Femme Fatale  
> 4\. Secret Meeting  
> 5\. Cigarette  
> 6\. Double Cross
> 
> xoxox
> 
> This is an un-beta'd story so please excuse any mistakes. I wrote-and-posted! The beautiful banner was drawn by [BianWW](http://bianww.tumblr.com/), thanks so much for your time and effort!!

**1\. Rainy Night**

Thunder cracked in the distance, nearly startling Bulma off her feet. If she didn’t hurry, she was going to be caught in the impending downpour. As if that wasn’t enough, thick tendrils of fog lapped at her feet, threatening to swallow her into their miasma. She pulled her cloak tighter, thumbing along her belt for her vials. All still intact, good. 

The pitch-black was home to all manner of horrors. If this weren’t a trail she’d traversed dozens of times, Bulma knew she would be devoured by the night. One heard tales of disappearances, and everyone knew someone who knew someone whose cousin never made it home after a moonless night. 

Thoughts of a crackling fire and a hot mug of tea (and the safety that came with them) kept her going as she blindly raced forward. 

Before she could register the danger consciously, in a split second her heart skipped a beat and she ran face-first into something in the dark. 

 

**2\. Private Eye**

It took a moment to register that the scream echoing in Bulma’s head was her own. Just as quickly as she realized it, something clamped over her mouth and muffled the shriek. Right next to her ear, a deep voice growled: “Quiet, woman. You’ll attract all manner of things.” 

Bulma struggled against the firm grip that held her in place, flailing about in a panic. She remembered her vials, one hand pulling at the person (if he was a person) who trapped her in his grip and the other scrabbling to find the right bottle. Thumbing the cork off with practiced ease, she held her breath and smashed it on the ground. 

Her captor cursed, stepping away and covering his face with a white-gloved hand. The bright light illuminated the immediate vicinity, sparking and popping like a pinecone in a fire. The man was clothed entirely in black, with a long cloak that made him look like some private eye from one of the larger cities. At least he _looked_ person-shaped, but that wasn’t enough to quell Bulma’s panic. 

While he was distracted, she burst into a sprint and took off down the path. 

 

**3\. Femme Fatale**

As quickly as it flared, the bright light disappeared. To the untrained eye, Bulma’s concoctions were magic. It added to the air of mystery she cultivated. Her hood flopped back off her wild tresses, releasing them to the wind as she ran. 

Mentally, she calculated the cost of replacing that particular mixture. Pure potassium was no easy thing to come by in these parts, even when she did play up her femme fatale good looks with the traders and merchants who passed through on their way to the City of the West. 

If she wasn’t mistaken, she was just about halfway home. Barring another frightening encounter with whichever unfortunate souls were stuck out on the trail this time of night, she should be home within the time it took to boil her kettle over the fire. She was just beginning to daydream about the cozy inn again when the air charged with electricity and lightning arced across the sky. The deafening roar of thunder overhead stunned her momentarily, pitching her to the ground to cover her ears. The next moment, the sky opened its floodgates. 

Hoping against hope that the rainfall would mask the sound of her footsteps, Bulma shakily climbed to her feet. 

That hope was shattered when a wraithlike apparition appeared in front of her in an instant. 

Suddenly, a gloved hand took hers and pulled her along. The same deep voice growled in her ear again: “Run.” 

She didn’t have to be told twice. 

 

**4\. Secret Meeting**

He led them off the trail. The moment she stepped foot into the underbrush, she knew she’d made a mistake. But still she followed, if not by choice then because he still held her hand. 

“Where are we going?” she called out over the roar of the rain. 

He didn’t answer verbally, but the violent jerk he gave her hand was sign enough of his intention. _Shut up._

Finally they slowed, then stopped altogether. Bulma reached out into the darkness and her hand made contact with what felt like a sheer rock face. “Where are we?” she whispered. He was close enough that she didn’t have to shout. 

“Quiet,” he said again. His palm began to glow, illuminating their surroundings and proving Bulma right. 

She didn’t know there were cliffs in the area. Nor did she know what manner of sorcery was emanating from her reluctant companion’s hand. 

Without warning, the man pulled back and let loose a beam of hot, white light that blasted a hole into the rock, revealing a path into the monolith. “Follow,” he grunted, ducking inside without hesitation, like he hadn’t just showed a common human his biggest secret. 

Bulma had the curiosity of a scientist, meaning a hearty mix of hubris and what-the-hell-could-go-wrong, topped off with a burning desire to learn all of the world’s hidden truths. They were already so far into the cave-corridor that it should have grown dark, and belatedly, she realized there were lit torches on the walls. 

Was he leading her to some cavern, to a secret meeting of others like him? Was she to be their ritualistic sacrifice?  
Had she just _wildly_ miscalculated her changes of survival alongside this dark, brooding grouch of a man? 

 

 **5\. Cigarette**

“At least let me have a cigarette before you kill me,” Bulma quipped as they moved further underground. 

The man looked back and quirked an eyebrow, eyes shining in the torchlight. “You will not die by my hand.” 

Well, that phrasing was less than reassuring. 

“Whose, then?” 

Bulma swore she heard him sigh. 

“By whatever manner of being you attract here with your incessant chatter.” 

“Nothing’s going to hear us this deep in,” she retorted. Did he think her stupid? 

Apparently so. He turned back toward her again, mouth set in a firm line. “If we are followed, I’m leaving you to fend for yourself.” 

“You didn’t have to rescue me in the first place,” Bulma replied with a pout to top it off. She had a hard time being grateful when she still had no clue what was going on. “And besides, you’re obviously a mage. You could have just magicked us out of there instead of being all cryptic about it and leading me to my possible death through the forest.”

“Not a mage.” 

“What are you, then? No human being who hasn’t trained in the Arts can do what you did to get us here.” 

“Not a human.” Abruptly, he held up a finger and cocked his head, listening for something Bulma couldn’t hear. “Quiet, and I mean it this time,” he hissed. His gaze fixed on something past her shoulder. “Don’t. Move.” 

Bulma froze as he raised his glowing hand and aimed it right at her. 

 

**6\. Double Cross**

She fought the urge to swallow the lump in her throat. He’d told her not to move, but shouldn’t she duck to the side at least? Whatever was behind her warranted the use of his magic (real magic! Bulma couldn’t believe her eyes), but she was standing in the crossfire. She barely knew the man, it wasn’t like he could double cross her when they didn’t have an arrangement in the first place.

“Close your eyes,” he commanded. 

She listened. 

A searing hot blast flew inches shy of her face and landed on its target behind her. The resulting otherworldly shriek echoed across the corridor walls and chilled her to the bone. 

“Let’s move.” 

She opened her eyes again to see her savior already striding away from her. Whirling around to see the remains of whatever it was he just killed, she furrowed her brow. There was nothing there but scorch marks all the way down the hall. 

“Who are you?” she asked, jogging to catch up with him. “ _What_ are you?” 

“My name is Vegeta,” he said, finally answering a direct question. “And if you come with me _quietly_ , I will show you what I am.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! I currently don't have active plans to continue this (I know, I know I left it on a cliff-hanger, I'm sorry,) 
> 
> BUT
> 
> If there's enough demand I might change my mind ;)


End file.
